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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767335">Hold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom'>docboredom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Spoilers, a bitch needed to vent write and this is what happens EVERY time y'all, major spoilers through s3 of castlevania read at your discretion, that's my comfort character you bitch, yearning!isaac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:22:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/docboredom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I faced death, I went in with my arms swinging<br/>But I heard my own breath<br/>And I had to face that I'm still living."</p><p>-</p><p>Isaac asks his distance mirror a seemingly impossible question.<br/>It delivers, of course.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dracula &amp; Isaac Laforeze, Dracula/Lisa (Castlevania)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Show me a memory.”</p><p>The distance mirror shivered at the demand, tumbling through the air on a pitched ringing. Isaac <em> knew </em> it didn’t work that way. It revealed hidden truths, after all. It was not meant to unearth personal tragedies. But he didn’t make a move to correct himself despite his knowing. There would be no simplifying this request. No retracting it. Instead, he watched, and he waited... bearing witness to it’s trilling incredulity. </p><p>It began to coalesce around his head far too long, still struggling to make sense of what he was truly saying, and who’s fault was that but his own, Isaac thought with a grim grinning. He was like any living thing, made of a hundred thousand memories. Blood drenched and writhing. Dead eyed and laden with hell beast forgery. He <em>saw</em> the bite of the studded belt without feeling it for the first time in his life. He <em>witnessed</em> the way his blade plunged into body after body, demanding death after death.</p><p>Then, the raven feather hair, the hitch of a mouth painted bloody...</p><p>Isaac’s throat clicked. There. <em> This </em> is what he had wanted. He just hadn’t known how to speak it without shattering. Dracula as he remembered the vampire most fondly, before the immortal’s hands had pushed him into the desert, before his passing. Before the betrayal. Before Carmilla and Godbrand and everyone’s scheming. There had been a small stretch of time before Dracula had sought out Hector, where it had just been just the two of them in the vampire’s ‘humble’ place of living. “Tell me what you want, what you require, and I will grant you everything.” The immortal had told him upon their entering, arms spread open, voice welcoming and kind. </p><p>“Not much.” Isaac had murmured, keeping his expression and voice bored despite the fluttering of moths inside his belly. He was a self made man. He could make do with anything. For Dracula to offer him decadence and possibility? It unnerved him. Made his heart trip unfailingly.</p><p>“You don’t have to be so austere, Isaac, not with me.” Dracula’s tired eyes seemed to gleam and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I believe the saying is ‘the world is your oyster…’ correct? My castle is your oyster, my dear friend.”</p><p>“I hate shellfish.” Isaac had muttered in reply, cheeks turning hot and dusky. “...I prefer red meat.” He then added after a moment, unable to keep the amusement from leaking in, mouth slowly upturning. Dracula had laughed then, truly <em> laughed, </em>and the forgemaster could almost convince himself for a moment that he wasn’t here on behalf of ending all of humanity. That this was simply his new normal. That he too could be truly happy.</p><p>“A feast is in order, it appears, and I shall surprise you with a grand and sprawling smithy.” That smile lingered, that joy bloomed, and his very soul sang with the delight of being cared for so openly. Isaac could feel himself begin to cry softly in the present, reaching towards the reimagined memory, desperate to be in that instance if only momentarily… To think that he could have lost this if the magician had taken him. That if he hadn’t broken those chains, it would be as if he had never had these precious memories, like he was no more than his eyes and mouth and callused hands.</p><p>Dracula could have stuck him in a god’s damned broom closet and he would have been happy. But he had gone and done more than that. Dracula Vlad Tepes truly had given Isaac <em> everything.</em> His life. His purpose. His value. His meaning. “Show me another.” Isaac whispered, giving a wet laugh at the sight of himself and Dracula bent over a golden chess board, both of them clearly exasperated, finding the game to be quite boring and tedious. “Another.” Oh yes, the endless library was next, it’s books filled with so many spells and mysteries not even Dracula himself could bind them. A day of simple reading up on the best hell beasts to call forth had turned into both of them stuck to the ceiling, somehow sporting an extra set of toes that took a full week to fall off. “God, another.” This would be the last one, he told himself, lest he wear himself out on the bittersweet memories.</p><p>The imagery shifted and Isaac paused. It was the night before they had gone to find Hector. Even without the mirror he remembered it so clearly. The ancient vampire had been pensive and distant the entire day, keeping himself secluded to the engine room. Isaac had discovered him hours later in his favorite room, the fire nearly burned out; his face was turned towards the portrait of Lisa and there were bloody tears drying upon his slumbering features. Vampires rarely slept. It was a thing of exhaustion rather than actual need for sleeping. The forgemaster had stood at the entrance of the room drinking in the sight, fingers clutched to the doorway, heartbeat slow and full of quiet wanting.</p><p>Present-Isaac watched as past-Isaac crossed the threshold, drawing a blanket across the vampire’s broad shoulders, already making all kinds of excuses for if and when the other would awaken, understandably. But beneath those apologies there was a burning need to tell Dracula his darkest secrets. To proclaim his trust, his love, his loyalty. To say “I am yours completely” before offering himself in his entirety. Whether it be in blood or body or simply comfort, he would return that promised favor- he would give the immortal <em> everything</em><em>. </em></p><p>Instead of any of that his past self simply tucked Dracula’s hair back from his face before the memory took to fading, leaving Isaac aching, yet strangely satisfied in the aftermath. “Thank you.” He told the shards, tracing his fingers across every edge quietly. “Until next time, my dearest friend.”</p><p>And in the shadows of the broken mirror, when Isaac turned his face away, a ghost of a memory smiled back at him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ever so softly, a teenage Phil Elverum is singing "I can't believe you actually died" before knowing what the true weight of death is years and years ago</p><p>And that's the thing, you never really know what it's like and how you're actually going to feel until it's gone.</p><p>I actually listened to a LOT of grouper while writing this but of course, I am absolute PHIL trash, so the title and description were inspired by the Microphone's The Glow (Part 2) which I would suggest checking out if you're looking for some good listening. That being said! Baby's first Castlevania fic. I ate this series up in a couple of days and Isaac truly became my personal favorite. I hope you all enjoyed this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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